I Sold My Used Socks to a Stranger on the Internet for $60—and I'd Do It Again

It was October 2015 when I first dipped my toes into the fetish industry. A group trip to Universal Studios Orlando led to me posting several Instagram pics featuring pretty girls wearing activewear, sneakers, and, obviously, socks. The pictures themselves were kind of thirst traps—I posted them because I knew we looked good—so I didn’t think too much of it when I received a comment from a stranger.

“Cool! Was it fun?” this person asked. I replied that it was. The mystery account typed that its owner had never been there before. From there, the exchange—which seemed totally innocuous at the time—continued, eventually switching to direct message. “Is it a lot of walking?” he asked, followed by, “Was it rly hot out today?”

Yes, it was pretty hot, I said, "But really fun! Worth walking in the Florida heat!”

A few more niceties were exchanged, and then the account got down to business. “Cool! One more question. This one’s kinda different… Would u maybe sell me the socks u wore today?”

Wait. Sorry, did this man really just ask if he could pay cash money for my sweaty footwear? It took me a few minutes to process how I felt about this. On the one hand, they weren’t expensive socks, so…. But on the other, was this opening me up to any kind of potential harm?

To be clear, I have no problem with someone pursuing their kink if it doesn’t hurt anyone else. But since this is a stranger on the Internet, I was relieved when some light googling confirmed that no incriminating DNA could be embedded in socks, and there probably wasn’t a hex he could put on me with access to them. After negotiating the reasonable price of $60 per pair—serious money to 21-year-old me—I decided to proceed with the transaction. And thus began my one-year relationship with the man I referred to as Sock Daddy.

Sock Daddy asked to add me on Snapchat and I began sending 10-second pictures of my feet that he would screenshot. He would send me mirror selfies of him wearing muscle tanks, or sometimes shirtless. He was a normal-looking—attractive, even—young man who said he went to business school in Canada.

After negotiating the reasonable price of $60 per pair, I decided to proceed with the transaction. And thus began my one-year relationship with the man I referred to as Sock Daddy.

As far as kinks go, foot fetishes have a long recorded history. Sexologist Timaree Schmit, Ph.D., told me that while it’s “impossible to know how common any fetish is, especially something as easy to access as feet or socks,” there is evidence this particular interest has been around for a very long time. Take Chinese foot binding, for example, which was first recorded over a millennium ago and which, Schmit said, would be considered a form of “generalized foot worship.”

Nowadays, it’s safe to say that sock fetishes are probably less popular than shoe or lingerie fetishes based on their respective representations in porn and erotic art, but anything that is associated with a sexualized body part will be popular. And anything that captures scents or fluids related to that part is going to have fans.

But there are fans and then there are fans. How much would you pay to own Lady Gaga’s Joanne hat, or Tom Brady’s cleats? “We have a reverence for objects that were used by the people we desire and admire, as though the object is infused with the mojo of that person themselves,” says Schmit. “It allows us to feel closer to our heroes and crushes, to possess an object that represents them and maybe even carries their scent.”

So am I the typical person selling their used socks on the Internet? I asked Kelly,* a sex worker and cam girl who sells her undergarments on Reddit. She told me most of her customers are “very scared to start, but once they begin they can't get enough.” She also said those who have physically seen her on camera understandably have a stronger connection than other customers. “It's a submissive bond that makes them come back for more and more,” she said. However, foot fetishists, in her experience, will usually spread the wealth, and she’ll often see them buying from other sellers as short as an hour after she sold to them.

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After Sock Daddy paid me through Snapcash but before I sent my socks to him, he kept asking for reassurance that they were “safe” and that no one would wash them. I asked him, “Why does it matter that they’re dirty?” He told me he likes the challenge of making something very dirty clean again.
When I sent them, I kept thinking that it was an easy and low-commitment enough way to make $60, but there was another reason I did it. The truth is, I was actually incredibly flattered that a stranger thought my feet—which I’d always felt particularly bad about—were sexy. Sure, I’ve had guys like me. But never to the degree of “I want to own your smelly socks” fandom.

After Sock Daddy and I completed the exchange (using a different return address, just to be safe), I thought about him a lot. I hoped someone loved him, that I was not the only person with whom he felt he could share his kink. “Celebration of these fetishes run the gamut from loud and proud to wholly secretive, depending on the person and their perceived costs and benefits of being open,” Schmit said. “If someone feels like being overt with their desires will result in realizing a fantasy, as opposed to being shamed, they will probably tell partners about it at minimum.”

Still, I considered us business partners more than anything else. We kept in touch for about a year and I even tried to sell a few other pairs of used footwear, but it always seemed like he didn’t trust me enough to share the specifics of what he did with my socks. That’s OK. I figured, once I'd relinquished them, his plans are his own business.

And though I don’t personally have a kink specific enough that I’d seek out an online community for it, if I did, I hope someone would help me out and send me their socks. I’d do it again.